Unintended
by DanceAmongTheStars
Summary: The female courier wakes in Goodsprings, unable to remember much of anything. But her first encounter with Vulpes Inculta stirs a strange combination of fear, curiosity and desire. So begins their relationship and legacy. VulpesxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Hello! This is my first published work of fanfiction so I really appreciate reviews! The world of Fallout: New Vegas and its characters are NOT mine! The rating is T as it stands but when chapter 5 comes up it will go to M, so please be aware! This first chapter is actually the end of the story, and chapter 2 is the beginning. I kind of like the tease of information which is incomplete but if you don't then feel free to start at 2! Thank you and enjoy!_

"And so we face each other." His voice was velvet.

"We knew it was only a matter of time," she whispered, "there was no other outcome."

Vulpes stepped closer, to where they only needed to reach out to touch the other. Leta stood in place, unmoving. Around them, the battle for Hoover Dam continued.

"You know they are watching us." He reminded her, "Every move we make is reported to our superiors."

"That has always been the case."

"You will not kill me." He was sure of his statement. Her eyes closed for a brief moment, and she reopened them, tears brimming.

"And you would kill me?"

"If that is what is necessary."

"Then you will not begrudge my actions." She whispered; and before either of them could fully conceive of it, her hand brought a knife across his neck. Blood trailed down his armor. His eyes widened in shock and he retaliated, bringing his machete across her chest. She recoiled enough for it not to be fatal, but blood dripped down her body as well. He dropped his machete and his hands gripped his neck, trying to keep the life from draining out of him. He fell to his knees. Leta recovered enough to look over as he hit the ground. She knelt beside him, and cradled his head in her arms. The world around them had stopped.

"Forgive me, Vulpes, I had no choice." She cried softly. He could hear her, but could not respond. She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered to him. His eyes widened at her words and he tried to grab her face, but his weak hand only brushed scarlet across her skin. She kissed his forehead, and his eyes closed,

"Vale, my love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_Important Disclaimer: This chapter and chapter 4 contain text directly from the game, I do not own or pretend to own the dialogue between Vulpes and Leta in Nipton or Caesar's words to Leta at the Fort. You'll recognize it if you're familiar with the game, and I loved it so much I really wanted to include it to try and stay true to character, but it isn't mine!_

The Courier sat in the Prospector Saloon, sipping a glass of whiskey. She didn't think she was a drinker, but it calmed her nerves and distracted her. Getting a bullet in the brain was a good reason to have a drink. Trudy looked at her while drying off a glass,

"Sweetheart, you look a right mess."

The courier stayed silent for a few minutes.

"Don't fret over it all, bad things happen and somehow we survive. At least you're breathing." Trudy tried to comfort the girl, but when she saw she wasn't getting far she quieted. The courier had a blank look on her face and had barely said a word since she came in.

"What do you know about the men who shot me?" The Courier spoke up at last, her voice quiet, but strong.

"Well there were three of them, the one in the checkered suit seemed to be calling the shots and they headed south towards Primm. But I didn't hear any names or details. That's just the road they took. Paid their bill and left." Trudy answered. The Courier nodded,

"Don't suppose you have a hat I can use?"

Trudy looked confused then realized that underneath her bandana there was probably a mess of hair, blood and stitches. Trudy nodded and pulled a dusty old bonnet out from underneath the counter. The Courier reached into her pocket to pay her but Trudy shook her head,

"Don't worry about it, you've earned it." Trudy didn't explain, but the Courier assumed that she meant the woman she saved from geckos by the well with Sunny.

"Thanks." The Courier got up and walked to the door, "I'll be back. That rat holed up in the gas station needs taken care of. It's the least I can do." She tipped the brim of her bonnet and stepped outside. She wanted to be alone. She wanted time to think about and process what had happened, who she was. But she knew that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to find the men who shot her. So she headed for Primm.

Primm had less than Goodsprings, and she had to fight her way through some Powder Gangers to get any information. Not to mention that the deputy sheriff was a scammer. The man she was after was headed to Novac, probably through Nipton. The Courier stayed a night in the Bison Steve hotel and scavenged anything useful she could find. Of course, that was after killing the scum holed up there. She patched together some leather armor and found some ammunition for her 9mm. She held the pistol in her palm. She would need more firepower than this pistol and a varmint rifle. Not dwelling on it, she packed up and headed for Nipton in the morning.

The sun was blazing, and the Courier was tired as hell. Her head throbbed and she pulled her sweaty hat farther over her face. Last thing she needed was sunburn. At last, in the distance she could see what she assumed was Nipton. But she noticed thick black smoke rising from the town and a cold chill ran down her spine. Her eyes narrowed and she continued carefully until she was just outside the town. She stuck to the shadows as best as she could and kept low. The Courier was tense, and she hated the eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach. Somehow she knew they were all dead before she saw a corpse, but when she rounded a corner her assumptions were proven in excess. Just ahead, by the side of the road, was a man hanging crucified and half alive. She approached warily, careful of traps and looked up at him. He was barely conscious, and blood dripped down his chin. She was tempted to kill him out of mercy, but the scavenger in her told her not to waste the ammo, he probably only had minutes anyway. So she continued farther into the town. There, on the town hall steps, was a group of what she assumed were Legionaries. They fit the description she had been given perfectly. It seemed as though they had been there most of the day and killed every living person there. Except for the raving lunatic she had seen skipping out of town singing something about a lottery. The leader seemed to be a man in a coyote hood and black goggles, and even without a good look at him she knew he was dangerous. His stride dared anyone to approach him, and the way his shoulders were square and upright oozed confidence. Perhaps overconfidence, but some voice whispered in the back of her head that it was well warranted. She considered her options. Hide and sneak out of town, or try and face the men. If the rumors were true they would either kill her or enslave and rape her and neither was an outcome she desired. Chances were, they had no answers, the townspeople would have, and they were all corpses. Something about the man in the hood was beckoning her, and it was frightening. Her curiosity would get her killed or worse if she didn't control it, and she had barely survived once. That was enough of a close call. But she knew that hiding and walking away could not be the rest of her life. Neither was this a time to test it.

The Courier stepped out from the shadows and strolled down the street towards the men, her heart in her mouth, pounding. Almost immediately she was spotted and they watched her come closer. The man in the hood stepped forward as she drew nearer, and once close enough, spoke:

"Don't worry, I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates. It's useful that you happened by. I am Vulpes Inculta and I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across." His voice was velvet, a deep cadence that wrapped its fingers around her. She expected a rough voice, something blatantly sinister. Though sinister indeed, it was nothing like she expected. It was sinister in the most terrifying way; it was as though he could convince you of anything simply by speaking it. She cautiously responded,

"What 'lessons' did you teach here?"

Her curiosity was genuine; she wanted to know why all of these people had been so mercilessly slaughtered. But she also knew that she tempted fate in questioning him. If the Legion was as absolute and unforgiving as this display made it seem, questioning their logic was a sure way to end up dead. But he seemed happy to oblige her,

"Where to begin? That they are weak, and we are strong? This much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson."

"What exactly happened here?"

"Nipton was a wicked place, debased and corrupt. It served all comers, so long as they paid. Profligate troops, Powder Gangers, men of the Legion such as myself – the people here didn't care. It was a town of whores. For a pittance, the town agreed to lead those it had sheltered into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize they were caught inside it, too."

"You captured everyone?"

"Yes, and herded them to the center of town. I told them their sins, the foremost being disloyalty. I told them that when Legionaries are disloyal, some are punished, the others made to watch. And I announced the lottery. Each clutched his ticket, hoping it would set him free. Each did nothing, even when "loved ones" were dragged away to be killed."

"You slaughtered innocent civilians?" Her voice nearly cracked. He scoffed,

"Innocent? Hardly. Cowardly, though. They outnumbered us, yet not once did they try to resist. They stood and watched as their fellows were butchered, crucified, and burned, one by one. They stood and hoped their turn would not come. Each cared only for himself."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking of how to respond. Countering and angering him would be foolish.

"I'll do as you ask." She looked up at his goggled eyes without fear, and briefly wondered their color.

"Then I bid you "Vale" – until we meet again." He walked away without a glance, but his presence hung around her. Until we meet again? She never wanted to be anywhere near him again. Yet his words had a finality to them that was indisputable. Did he know something she did not? It was possible, considering her injury. Did he expect that she would do something great? Or even, something terrifying? There was no telling.

She watched him walk away, and his men followed silently. A breeze lifted up and the stench of death and charred corpse surrounded her. She wondered if before being shot she would have been sickened by it, but now she pushed it aside. There was nothing she could do, no one she could help. The men disappeared down the road, and she noticed the sun was not far from setting. Though she wanted shelter for the night, she knew that sleeping here would be impossible. But setting up somewhere in the wasteland also yielded little sleep. She started in the direction of Novac. She would not make it by dark, but she knew that sleep would elude her tonight anyway. Vulpes Inculta would haunt her dreams.

The night air was cold but it was quiet, and the Couriers mind was at its perpetual cycle of questions. Where had she come from? She seemed to remember bits and pieces of things like a father and mother. She knew she was twenty years old, five feet six inches tall, and had hazel eyes. She was nearly certain her name was Leta Marie Singer. She had never been to New Vegas before. She was working as a Courier when she was shot. She had a younger brother. Why had she left her family? There was a reason, but she could not recall it.

The moon was high in the sky when she came across an abandoned toll booth. With her rifle leading her, she poked her head in and found nothing but dirt and spider webs. She curled up on the floor of it and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, trying to keep the cold night air of the desert out of her heart.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun woke her; it was warm on her face and bright in her eyes. She yawned and stretched her stiff limbs. Something made a rustling noise outside her toll booth. She carefully peeked her head up enough to see through the broken glass. It was a small bark scorpion, and by the looks of it, it was alone. She slid her 9mm out of her waistband and pointed it at its eyes. The first shot pissed it off, and it started for her. Her second shot missed and hit its tail. The third shot hit its head again and the creature stopped in its tracks, collapsing to the ground. Leta scanned her surroundings, and nothing moved. She bent down and used a nearby rock to crack the scorpion's shell. She peeled it back to reveal meat and dug out its pale grey flesh. She had read once that crabs in the old world were similar, only boiled and white rather than raw and gray. She took a bite, thankful she didn't have to cook it before eating it. A little radiation was worth a good breakfast.

Once her meal was finished she continued onward to Novac. The sun was high and hot before she reached a giant decaying dinosaur signaling her arrival. She opened the fence gate and walked into the door on the side of the dinosaur. A cheery man greeted her, and asked if she wanted to buy a Dinky the Dinosaur toy. She declined, and he grumbled about how no one would buy one. But he gave her some information about the town, in particular a pair of snipers that took turns guarding the town. Surely, one of them had seen the man in the checkered suit. She scaled the insides of the dinosaur and talked to the day sniper. He had formerly been a Great Kahn, joined the NCR and now lived in Novac. The other sniper had a bone to pick with him, and Leta decided to check it out that night. But the asshole wouldn't tell her what he knew about the man in the checkered suit unless she did a favor for him too. She wanted to slap him silly, put her gun to his head and demand the information, but decided that wasn't wise. The fewer enemies she had, the better off she would be. She had to clear some feral ghouls out of a RobCo facility. She decided that that was a job for tomorrow, rented a hotel room, napped, and wandered around town getting to know people. Jeannie May creeped her the hell out. The old couple with the brahmin were sweet. Nobark was a nut job but harmless enough. Except for that damn "stickin' knife" of his; he was just asking for tetanus. Once dark had settled over the town and it was late enough, Leta climbed the dinosaur and startled the sniper Boone. He was handsome, she had to admit. He was also a prick. But something about the desperation in his voice made her want to help him. His wife had been kidnapped one night while he was on watch, and he wanted to know who told her kidnappers how and when to come. Leta didn't want to get involved in someone else's business right now, or ever again really. But something about this angry man in the mouth of a decaying dinosaur made her sad, and she knew she had to at least try. She agreed to look into it, and poked about town at night. Only Boone was awake so it was easy enough to sneak about. She found nothing, and no one seemed especially suspicious. Sure, the daytime sniper was a dick and didn't like her, but she didn't really think he'd sell her off to the Legion for Boone's sake. The only thing Leta could think of was to check locked doors and safes for money, receipts, a diary, anything. Sure enough, in the lobby of the hotel was a safe with a sales receipt for Carla and her unborn child. The idea of the transaction made Leta sick, so without haste she woke up Jeannie May and led her to her death. When Boone asked, she just handed him the note and hung her head. She wanted to ask if he knew about the baby, but figured it was none of her business and rude to ask. She left the dinosaur and curled up on one of the hotel beds to rest before the morning.

She woke at noon from a fitful slumber, scraped enough caps around to buy a bigger rifle from the man in the dinosaur, and sold her varmint rifle. She held the .308 in her hands and hoped that it was enough firepower to stop whatever she would meet in RobCo.

Turns out it was, but only because the nightkin hiding in the basement spoke English and didn't want to eat her. The ghouls upstairs wanted a rocket ship into space and the nightkin out of the basement. The nightkin, along with their leader who was the skull of an antelope, wanted the supposed Stealth Boys out of the crates in a room that they didn't go into because of a ghoul with a gun. Leta knew she had gone insane. A rocket ship to space? Antelope skull leader? She was sure it had a name, she just couldn't remember what. Long story short, she got everyone out of the building. It was long, frustrating, and she got lost in the building more than once but she did clear the building. A feral ghoul gave her a nasty gash on her forearm, but she was otherwise unscathed. And she had managed to gather a few caps and useful things. She started back toward Novac late in the evening. A feral ghoul howled somewhere in the distance.

The daytime sniper was true to his word and gave Leta the information he had promised. Since hanging around and getting involved in Novac's affairs she had grown to like the town, and was almost sad to leave it. She had considered asking the nighttime sniper to join her on her journey, but knew better. She was still learning who she was, having another person around would only complicate things. So her feet carried her north toward Boulder City alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Leta woke up covered in sweat and panting. The cool air of the Lucky 38 hit her forehead and brought her back to reality. She was in the Lucky 38. She had followed Benny's trail here to the Tops; stopped in Primm, Nipton, Goodsprings, Boulder City, and now New Vegas. That's right; it had only been a dream. But the touch of his hands and the rush of blood to her skin had felt so real. The image of Vulpes Inculta naked before her and asking for her body was burned into her mind. But what scared her the most was how much she enjoyed it. She wanted him. Or, at least she wanted the 'him' from her dreams who worshipped her body and needed her for satisfaction. She got up quickly and ran to the bathroom sink to splash cold water on her face. Who was she? Why were these dreams so real and hard to shake? What did they mean? She had to focus on the task at hand, which was kill Benny. She told herself that all she really wanted was to see Benny's corpse rotting in the Mojave sun. So she put on her leather armor and walked over to the Tops casino.

Leta sighed and sipped her gin at the Tops' bar. Benny had slipped through her grasp again and had fled the Strip. The thought had occurred to her to lure him into the bedroom and kill him there, but the idea of touching him in any suggestive way was repulsive. She had been unable to convince him to meet with her in private, he wasn't an idiot after all. So he got away again. She swore the next time she saw him it would be his head on the ground and his body next to it. The bartender asked if she wanted more, but she declined and stood up, a little fuzzy from the alcohol. She pushed open the casino doors and squinted into the Mojave sun. Her eyes took several seconds to adjust and she saw a man slowly approaching her. When she realized who it was she froze in place. What was he doing here on the NCR occupied Strip? She wondered briefly how dirty her hair was.

Vulpes spoke with a casual tone that made it sound to any passerby that they were acquaintances. But he invited her to the Fort and offered a Mark of Caesar to guarantee her safety. His eyes were always trained on hers but it felt like he could see right through her. Just before he left he added one simple sentence,

"I look forward to meeting you there." A clever grin curled on his face and he turned to leave. Leta stayed where she was and watched him go. When he was out of sight she breathed deeply, realizing that she had barely been breathing the whole time. She shook her head and walked with a brisk pace back to the Lucky 38. With any luck, the Legion would have a clue where Benny was. She would head out tomorrow.

"I mean, a man nearly kills you and your response is to track him across the breadth of the Mojave? You visit the Tops, and the next thing you know, the head of the Chairmen is fleeing the Strip like a whimpering little pup? When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that." Caesar's voice was commanding, but not loud. For some reason, Leta felt comforted by his presence. If this man was in charge, she was safe here, none of these men would touch her. It was foolish of her to come at all, especially with no guarantee of safety other than that of a man who mercilessly slaughtered an entire town. But she had, and her decisiveness was paying off. He would let her kill Benny with her own hands. In return she would destroy House's bunker. The way she saw it, House had long outlived his welcome on Earth, and killing him was no more than putting a very old dog out of its misery. She would when she returned to the Strip, but for now, she could savor Benny's death. It surprised her when she walked up to him, machete in hand, and she hesitated. She didn't want to kill him in cold blood. She realized it wasn't in her nature, despite the fact that she had been killing since she awoke in Goodsprings. In that moment she learned about who she had been before all of this and as a tear escaped her eye, her resolve strengthened, he had taken it away from her.

"C'mon baby, there's got to be a way to work things out," Benny crooned,

"No, Benny, this ends in your death."

"But baby, think of everything we could d-"

Benny's words were cut short by a machete across his neck. Almost in the blink of an eye Leta raised it, swung its considerable weight, and his head hit the ground neck to him, blood shooting rhythmically from his torso.

"Hmm, more sharp than I thought," She mused as she wiped the blood from her face, "Good riddance."

Vulpes had been watching from a distance, and was strangely impressed. Perhaps it was her skill with a machete, the way she kept her words short and sweet, or the look of quiet contentment as she turned around and saw him. This time, she didn't startle when her gaze met his. Her eyes looked almost bored beneath the smear of blood across her pale skin. She blinked slowly, nodded in his direction and walked out of the tent to find a safe place to sleep for the night. After waiting just long enough not to look too desperate, he followed her out. Caesar watched and suppressed a chuckle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** _You may have noticed that the story is now rated M rather than T, and for a reason, so please be responsible! There is sexual content, which I'm new to writing, so advice/reviews are great, but please be respectful. So that being said I'm excited to get to the real 'meat' (pun intended) of the story, the relationship and interactions between Leta and Vulpes. Enjoy!_

A sense of accomplishment and calm washed over Leta as she swaggered out of Caesar's tent. Not only had she done exactly what she had set out to do since she awoke in Goodsprings, but she had also gained the trust and esteem of one of the most powerful men in the Mojave. And damn, but didn't she feel fabulous. The awful "Now what?" questions pricked at the back of her mind but she was too freshly sated with revenge to really care. For one evening she was willing to let be what was and not worry about what came next; because hell, she had been running herself into the ground since she was dug out of it. So when that silky, dark voice that haunted her dreams came from behind her, she was ready to play his game.

"You walk with confidence, Courier."

"I have earned it."

Vulpes wasn't sure if he was pleased with her newfound pride or repulsed by it. He smirked at her cool gaze when she turned,

"The last time we met I could have taken my smallest finger and knocked you over, and now here you stand. Who are you, Leta?" The use of her name threw her off as he expected, but she recovered easily to respond,

"I am Courier Six. I am the woman who was shot in the head, raised from a shallow grave, and trekked across the breadth of the Mojave to kill the man who shot me. Or were you daydreaming when Caesar addressed me?"

"I was fully aware." He stepped closer, "I just meant to ask what kind of woman you are."

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would."

And this is where Leta's head began to spin with confusion and desire. Coy responses and witty words caught on the back of her tongue and Leta's calm façade finally cracked. Her curiosity, tinted with apprehension, was visible. Wordlessly, Vulpes pulled her farther into the camp and to his own tent. Here, in the relative privacy of his own space, his eyes trailed up and down her. Unsure of what she wanted or what was right, Leta stood still, letting him appraise her. When he approached and placed a hand on her neck, she recoiled violently, startled by his touch,

"No. I am not your plaything. Besides, what would Caesar think of this if he knew?"

"I have little doubt he will. And he doesn't care who I bring to my bed, why should he?"

"I am carrying out his will, I'm sure he doesn't want his plan interrupted."

"You think you are so indispensable?" His voice was teasing and his hand reached for her again,

"Stop," Her confusion and fear came to a peak and she simply reacted. Her body had begun to ache for him in ways she did not recognize, and although her carefree sense of accomplishment was heady, her sense of self-preservation was strong. Her hazel eyes met his and he stood tall and straight at her command,

"Then so be it. Leave. I will not have some squealing pig beneath me." And he watched her, expecting her to turn and go. When she didn't immediately stalk out of his tent, his interest was piqued and he watched her mind work from just steps away.

Leta was torn and fighting herself. The undeniable danger of sharing a bed with this man terrified her. However it also stirred deep in her belly a need she was aching to explore. The fresh satisfaction of separating Benny's head from his body hadn't been forgotten, but with it came a sense of purposelessness. She had her revenge. So what was her purpose now? But other questions that she had pushed beneath her revenge mission began to bubble up into her consciousness: Why did she dream of him, why did she lust after him? She dared to look him in the eye.

When her eyes turned to his he closed the space between them, seized her in his arms, and kissed her neck. She melted under his touch. All sense of priority was suddenly replaced with passion, need, and reckless abandon. She had never been touched like this; never been set aflame. He kissed her again, forcefully. She hated herself for it, but desperately wanted his touch, his voice in her ear, his need for her. It seemed that her dreams did not fall short in prophesizing his want.

"You are a fine woman," that unmistakable voice rang in her ears, but this time it was a hoarse whisper that slithered down her spine and made her muscles tighten. He paused to carelessly lift the armor off his chest and remove his shirt. She basked in the glory of his lean, sculpted chest, scattered with pale scars. She hastily removed her own leather armor and the tank top that was underneath. His hands instantly caressed her breasts, their shape and fullness a perfect fit to his hands. Soft moans began to escape her lips between ragged breaths. He backed her up to his small desk, and after removing the last piece of fabric on her, lifted her up onto the edge. He teased her more, with his finger, his mouth, all with a teetering sense of control. She pressed against him, caressed him, played with him, until finally he gave into her demands and entered her. Both were breathless for a second, and their eyes met. He crashed his lips into hers; their bodies rocking together in exquisite disharmony. After plenty of this lovemaking, Leta found her peak.

"Yes," she whispered as she reached glorious orgasm, which spread over every inch of her body. The rhythmic clenching of her muscles sent him over the edge as well and they collapsed into a panting tangle of limbs.

Without warning, Leta sat up and braced herself against the ground as if it were the only thing between her and her death. Vulpes was knocked onto his side in the tumult and sat up next to her scowling,

"What?"

Pupils wide, she didn't respond. Her empty gaze held forward until finally she blinked and swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat.

"I- I saw," Words, ideas, thoughts, memories, all crashed into each other in her head and a searing pain shot through her skull. "I need to go." Leta began putting her clothes on, but had to slow down for the pain of years of knowledge returning at once.

"You're in no condition to leave. It's dark and you're not even-" The thump of her unconscious body hitting the ground interrupted him, "Exactly." He moved her to his bedroll and placed her clothing beside her. She would answer his questions when she awoke, but for now she would rest. Vulpes mused briefly at the idea that the sex was just that good.


	6. Chapter 6

Searing pain coiled mercilessly behind her eyes and Leta wondered how much she had drank to deserve such a punishment. She was absolutely unwilling to open her eyes or move a muscle. What had happened last night? Had she been drinking with Tulip again? Had she argued with Charlie? No, Charlie was dead. She was far from home, in a place called New Vegas, on the edge of NCR territory. She had left to begin again, and 'find herself' like in all of those books her mother gave her from before the war. She could remember exactly what her mother smelled like, the feel of her hands, the sound of her voice. And she could remember her father's love of the night sky.

By this time, her headache had dulled to a frustrating throb and she was vaguely aware of her surroundings. Only when she remembered where she was did she notice, and hastily cease, the tears that slid silently down her cheeks. She warily opened her eyes to find Vulpes at his desk, writing something. He appeared unaware of her, but she knew better. His eyes didn't wander from his task,

"Had that happened before?"

"No, and thank you, I'm feeling much better," her eyes rolled, but he was still looking down, "How long was I out?"

"Close to 24 hours. I sent for a slave to see to you, she insisted you were fine and would wake when you were ready. It seems she was correct."

"I need to go."

"The last time you said that, you passed out shortly thereafter," his cool gaze fixed on her, "stay still." After fidgeting uncomfortably, Leta obeyed. She needed to leave. This was the last place she should be. Not only because she was processing who she was, but because of the memories she was processing. Her memories had returned, but she still felt apart from them, as if she had transformed into someone new. However she knew that the person she once was would strongly disapprove of present company and until she decided who she really was, she needed to be alone.

Vulpes finished his work and turned his body in the chair to face her. For several long minutes, he only watched her. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, but he appeared unaware. At last,

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you, I only have a slight headache."

"What do you remember?"

Leta froze momentarily, "Bits and pieces, my parents mostly."

"Mm."

"I owe you no explanations, Inculta. Don't pry," her nerves were at their limit.

"That is my job. It is my very nature, so please expect no less."

"Perhaps another time; I'd love a chat about our upbringings."

"I shall hold you to it; however, your dry sarcasm is translucent. You are free to go anytime. You are not a prisoner here."

That unreadable expression of his was getting old, and Leta waited for no further cues or hints to dress herself and gather her things. As she pulled at the last buckle on her armor, he asked,

"So what were they like, your parents?"

Unlike any time she had heard him speak before, she wanted to answer him honestly and without any premeditation. His words were gentle and concerned rather than invasive. When she looked over at him, his face had softened almost imperceptibly, but she saw. If she had not known better, Leta would have sworn he was genuinely interested in her or her life.

"Stop pretending. What I do or do not remember does not affect my promise to Caesar. House will die. You have nothing to be concerned with," she cooled, "Besides, what do the memories of a profligate mercenary matter to the Legion?"

Vulpes didn't respond until she brushed past him to leave, then he whispered so quietly that Leta would later question whether he spoke at all,

"Not to the Legion, to me. On the northern shore of Lake Mead, just west of the pier is a shack. Three days time. Sunset."

Leta faltered in her step, but continued past him and out of the tent into the scorching afternoon sun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**_ Just a quick thank you for your reading, favs, follows, and reviews! Also, apologies for not being quicker on the updates. Enjoy!_

Some of the recruits she passed on her way out recognized her and sneered. Their knowing eyes stung like nettles. She would never admit out load the hurt and embarrassment of these men looking at her as a witless piece of ass. But if the truth were known, and her ignoring it did not make it false, her sleeping with Vulpes was an asinine move if she had ever hoped of raising the opinion of women in the Legion. She hadn't; she was not that noble or foolish, even if she had once been long ago.

She intentionally avoided the eyes of the ferryman who took her back to Cottonwood Cove.

Again, the sun beat mercilessly down on her as she dragged herself back to the Strip. It wasn't that she expected any different, every day the same brutal rays baked the earth and its inhabitants, it was only that this time they seemed to concentrate on her especially. She stopped more than normal, needing the sanctuary of the shade for her bloodshot eyes and the peace of stillness for thought.

Before she had come east to New Vegas and the surrounding towns, she had lived deep in the NCR in relative peace and normalcy. She had parents, a younger brother, friends, and a boyfriend. Her mother worked as a nurse and her father a researcher of old technologies, her brother was many years younger than she. Her best friend Tulip had grown up in the same town alongside her and there had never been secrets between them. Charlie was her boyfriend, the son of the local bighorner farmer. She could still see his dusty blonde hair lifting off of his forehead in one of those breezes that rolled lazily down the valley. She had thought she was in love at 16, and would have followed the pup anywhere. But he volunteered to join in the fight against the Legion pushing west. Children never do know what they're getting into when they sign up to fight, and he had signed up for his own death. It was a tragedy really, but dying young is not unusual in the merciless world. So after much crying and daydreaming, she decided that leaving to 'find herself' was what she wanted. As a girl she had read stories of heroines going on grand adventures and finding their places and purpose in the world, and although her mother never intended for them to be anything but stories, she had been an impressionable young girl with dreams in her head bigger than their valley. She could still feel the soft flannel quilt tucked around her shoulders and her mother's warmth next to her as she read from old world books at night. Her mother's love of reading and her father's curiosity had rubbed off on her. So she had hugged her protesting family and promised to return someday. She had been 18 then, and an absolute fool.

At first, wandering was fun, but soon the terrifying reality of being alone in the wasteland with its inhabitants became undeniable. Within months she was capless, with little idea of the direction home and little skill for work. She took some courier jobs and eventually ended up on the edge of NCR territory attempting to deliver a package to the Strip. The job should have killed her, and in any other reality would have, except that by some puzzling twist of fate she survived; which had now become her dilemma. She was unintentionally involved in a war she really cared little about. Three years ago she cared very much and would have spit in Vulpes' face and been killed in Nipton, but she had become a very different woman since then. Well, obviously, she had just unabashedly had sex with the Legion's greatest spy.

So now here she sat, unsure of what to do next. Knowing the person she was, or rather used to be, could she really continue helping the Legion? She had once been an NCR citizen and loved an NCR soldier. What would Caesar do to her if he ever found out? Is there any way Vulpes could know, and better yet, how would he react if he did? But her agreeing to do a little mercenary work for them did not mean she agreed with their ideologies or particularly cared if they took the dam. Her intention had never been to join them. She was horny and curious, not stupid. Well that was arguable, but besides, she despised the way they looked at women; herself included. Vulpes had to have realized all of this, even if he was unaware of the person she once had been. However, she didn't particularly want to jump into the NCR's cause wholeheartedly either. She didn't really want to be on any team. Being shot in the head can make a person care much less about the whole world and much more about oneself. But having already aided Caesar could be her downfall if she didn't make amends with the NCR. Rangers were well known for their lethality against traitors. And she wasn't forgetting the fact that she was a profligate whore with a dirty little secret to hide either. So her decision had already been made: she would meet with Ambassador Crocker on the Strip to have her crimes against the NCR forgiven and learn what work she could do for them. Even if Caesar sent anyone after her, including Vulpes, it didn't scare her as much as the possibility of dying by the hands of her long lost brother. He wouldn't recognize her face, and it seemed that barely anyone in the Mojave knew her by anything except Courier. Despite the almost impossible odds of his joining the military and being in the specific unit sent to kill her, she still preferred taking her chances with the Legion.

Leta released an exasperated sigh, "One decision down, one to go." She knew she was absolutely crazy for even entertaining the idea of still meeting Vulpes. But she was. It could easily be a trap. Caesar could have her killed to prevent her from sharing what little she knew. But the truth was that Vulpes alone could kill her if he wanted, and she knew it. She had sensed from the very moment she saw him how deadly he was. That had been part of his allure. So far her poor sense of self-preservation when it came to this man had not killed her; was there any real reason to stop aside from the fear of death? Which after accomplishing her revenge mission; her fear of death had dulled to a possibly unhealthy indifference.

"Hey lady you got any Med-X? I'm dying for a fix."

"Eeeeeaaah!" Leta's pistol was pointed at the poor fellow before he could blink, "Where'd you come from? Who are you?"

His hands were immediately in the air, "Just a dude looking for some Med-X. Name's Charlie. And no offense, but you were walking toward me, I assumed you saw me."

Leta holstered her gun and rubbed her palm against her forehead, "Sorry, you just startled me. I should have been paying better attention. Wait. Charlie?" Her eyes searched his face for recognition desperately. But no, his puzzled stare was not at all familiar, this was not her Charlie. It couldn't have been. Even if it had, she wasn't sure what she would have said.

"You okay, lady?"

"Yeah, sorry. I thought for a minute you were someone I once knew."

"Never seen you before," he paused and then hastily added, "so about that Med-X…"

"Oh, sure, you got caps?"

"No."

Well, she thought to herself, at least he was honest, "Whatever. Take this for having my gun pointed at you and not threatening to kill me afterwards." She handed him two Med-X; she didn't like to use it anyway.

"Thanks!" She looked away when he immediately jabbed one into his arm, "Mmmmm."

"So, uh, have a nice day." She waved her hand and turned to continue north towards the Strip, but his voice stopped her,

"It's anybody's guess what had you so in your head that you missed me, but whatever it was, here's my unsolicited advice: Take care of yourself first and foremost, because no one else will."

Leta turned around to face him, and a tiny smile had graced her lips, "Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

Leta couldn't sleep. The gentle whir of computers on the other side of the wall, which normally lulled her to sleep, was only a nagging reminder of the guilt which currently plagued her. House had cursed her as she unsealed his living tomb and then proceeded forward to put a bullet between his eyes. At the time she had no regrets, and had figured it much more humane of her to just kill him quickly than let some infection set in or his life support give out. But now guilt, raw and burning laid across her shoulders. She kept telling herself that he was ancient, and had lived long past his due so there was nothing to be guilty about. If anything, she had been mother nature's own hand, right? He wasn't exactly innocent, but he wasn't guilty of any harm to her either. The only people she had killed up to now had either been shooting at her or had a history of trying to kill her, but he had tried to help her. Even if his motives were ultimately selfish, he had given her a place to stay, food, and purpose. In return she had killed him.

The bed creaked as she rolled herself out of it. No sense in lying there if she wasn't going to sleep. She rummaged through a dresser to find a dusty per-war dress and slid it on. It fit well; eerily well actually. She hadn't worn regular pre-war clothes since she had left home, and it felt strange. She looked at her Pip-Boy, the little lights read: 01:22. Not too late for New Vegas. The elevator doors opened, closed, and reopened in a blur and she was at the door of the Tops in what seemed like an instant. She relinquished her weapons and was let in with a friendly hello. Apparently they didn't care that she had killed Benny or House, or they didn't know. Either way she was grateful to not be stopped or questioned. Leta made her way to the bar, which was pretty quiet and ordered an extra dry martini. She drank it faster than she probably should have and her vision began to slow. While her head spun with alcohol, she recalled the events of the past two days; it's easier to reflect when alcohol dulls your sense of guilt and judgement. She had stumbled home from the Fort, faced a rather pissed-off House and killed him. His Securitrons had given her some nasty burns and bruises, so once House was dead she had holed herself up in the Presidential Suite and licked her wounds. Leta hadn't thought much about Vulpes' strange offer of meeting since she had bumped into the addict on her way back to the Strip. She had just been moving, taking care of her own immediate needs. Tomorrow would be three days. The bartender caught her eye as she waved for a second drink.

An hour later she didn't care much about her guilt, decision or much beyond how much fun some of the old music was to dance to. She had been easily persuaded to dance by another woman in the casino and was happily making a fool of herself on the dance floor of the Tops. Some of the other patrons seemed entertained by her, others ignored her but she was beyond caring. The swinging of the music, the light feeling of the booze, and the rush of blood in her ears was just too much fun. Another woman was dancing with her and getting closer than she normally allowed strangers. A feminine hand soon rested on her waist. Leta stepped closer and swayed her hips in time with the music against her new friend. Just as she leaned in to whisper an introduction a new hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her sharply backwards. In her inebriated state she lost her balance and fell into the person behind her. A firm chest and arms stood her upright and started to pull her away from the dance floor,

"Hey!" She struggled, very nearly escaping, and twisted to see her assailant, "Who do you think you are? Let me go!" The back of a man's head with typical gambler attire was all she could discern, until she heard a familiar voice,

"Shut up."

"Vu-"

"Silence!" He hissed and she immediately shut her mouth. His grip did not loosen but she complied much more readily as they moved quickly to the elevator. She sobered as the doors of the elevator began to close. She wasn't sure what she expected, but he was silent as they ascended and it unnerved her. Once the doors opened he led her, no less forcefully, to a room which he swiftly unlocked and pushed her into. Vulpes locked the door and with venom in his voice whispered,

"Are you really so fucking careless?"

"What do you-"

"No. Just stop," Fingers pressed to his temples, he exhaled sharply, "You get drunk in the casino of the man you killed, dance with a prostitute well known for sharing secrets and information, very nearly address me by name in front of an audience, and aren't even close to sober enough to defend yourself among other things."

"But, I-"

"Bite your tongue, woman." And his words cut through her stuporous surprise then,

"I didn't ask you to 'save me' from making a mistake, besides, despite your almighty judgement of the situation I was in control. A little tipsy sure, but drunk enough to spill any of your precious secrets? No. Even if I had information to give your enemies, which I don't, I'm not really careless enough to kiss and tell. So I was dancing close to another woman, a woman known for espionage, even. I think the real truth here is that your ego can't stand knowing another person, a woman even, could please me as much as you!"

The truth was that he had not expected such retaliation, and he was just a tad taken aback. Rather than show it, his cold eyes sent her a glare than could possibly have killed lesser women. Leta only let it fuel her anger,

"Go ahead, Vulpes, tell me I'm wrong. You got jealous, and figured you could hide your sweeping me away under the guise of 'protecting Caesar's information'." It was then that she realized how tense her body was, but dared not move a muscle while he watched her, waiting for weakness. She would give him no ground.

If he was honest with other people, Vulpes would tell her she was right. But he wasn't honest with other people. His hand connected with her cheek and she reeled with the force.

"You self-important little worm. You really think you have that power over me? I know multiple factions in the area are vying for either your help or death. You have knowledge of the fort; that alone is enough to be dangerous to us."

Leta knew that he had held back, but her stinging cheek was still a nasty reminder of the dangerous man with no limits to the damage he was willing to inflict should he think it necessary. She stood as tall as she could, straightening herself.

"Well, then. Was there more for us to discuss?" She intentionally repeated and mocked words she knew she had heard him speak. Perhaps the fuzziness of the alcohol hadn't completely subsided or that stinging wasn't painful enough to trap her tongue.

When he moved for her, she had no time to react, and she wasn't completely sure she wanted to. His powerful hand grasped her jaw with firmness bordering on pain and he pulled her eyes up to his.

"Do not speak to me that way, are we clear? Perhaps when you learn respect you will receive it." His voice was low and chilling. The fingers holding her jaw relaxed just enough to allow her a response,

"Forgive me, I didn't think men of the Legion gave much respect to women, much less 'profligate whores'."

"I have never referred to you as such. It would be best to not assume such things about my character."

"Deepest apologies, but you can't say my assumptions don't have ground."

"Fair." His admission surprised her. He continued after releasing her from his grip, "Tell me Courier, now that you've killed Benny, what will you do?"

She couldn't tell him she planned on meeting with the NCR, that she'd be a complete idiot to help the Legion, or that she had a feeling an independent Vegas would wither away. As much as he piqued her curiosity and libido, she knew there was no life for her or any other woman under the Legion. And as long as she was being truthful, she didn't actually know much about this man. What did he expect her to say anyway? She had already hesitated too long, damn it.

"I'm not sure." The defeat in her voice was convincing.

"By killing House you have irreversibly involved yourself in the future of the Mojave wasteland. But I think you know this."

"I do," That's when the addict's words came to her mind, and her courage returned, "I will do what is best for me and the people of the wasteland." Slightly more altruistic that she felt, but honest. And once she said it aloud, she started to feel its conviction.

"Let's just hope for your sake, it doesn't involve becoming an enemy of the Legion. Because even if I turn a blind eye, Caesar won't."

"I would never ask you to. And I know better than to think you would disobey orders. What was it Caesar said about you? That you imitate profligate ways without becoming 'sullied'? Even if it's reckless, I know what I've gotten into."

"And what, exactly, have you gotten yourself into?" Playfulness danced in his voice, and Leta wondered if it was genuine.

"A sexual relationship with the head of the frumentarii, a man considered a monster by most."

"To the point, then," His voice became silk in her ears, that same sound which haunted her dreams, "Is it safe to say that you intended to meet with me tomorrow?"

"Yes." Her voice was a breathy whisper, and she intended it as more than just a confirmation of his statement.

His hands found her then, one tangling in her hair, the other digging near painfully into her rear. He pulled her body against his and brushed his tongue alone her collarbone, up her neck, down her jaw. Leta's head spun, and she had been turned sharply with her back against him before she truly registered the change. She could feel him, hard against her backside despite their clothing. Buttons tumbled to the ground as he swiftly jerked the front of her dress open, revealing perked breasts. His fingers found her nipple and began to roll it between his thumb and index finger. She moaned with the sweet prickling spreading across her chest and downward. And then his teeth sunk into the tender flesh below her ear.

"Ah!" She yelped in surprise not only at the sudden pain, but also how it seemed to turn into a hot ache that slithered down her spine and fueled the increasing need between her legs. Leta had never thought of herself as someone who would enjoy pain in any sexual context, but she was, and wasn't going to take the time to ponder its significance.

Vulpes licked the trickle of blood from his lips, "You are mine, Courier, and mine alone."

"Mm," Was her response as she pressed herself into him and wiggled into his groin, causing his breath to hitch.

"Understand me, woman," His grip on her neck tightened, and he pulled her up and backward so that it was impossible to ignore him and the discomfort of an increasingly narrow airway. She stilled and he continued, "You will have no other partner while you are mine. I will know, and I will not be forgiving."

Leta had imagined that this might be coming and was prepared. She really didn't care if she had any other partners; one was enough of a handful. And she couldn't help but feel strangely complimented by it despite herself.

"I understand." She squeaked through his grip. He eased her down and let go of her completely.

Suddenly, surprisingly gentle hands eased her dress off of her shoulders and down her waist so that it pooled on the floor around her feet. She didn't turn to face him, but marveled at the warmth and skill of his hands. She heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his own jacket, hat, and shirt. The telling click of the belt hitting the floor made her flinch. And then he turned her to face him. She met his gaze, those cool blue-gray eyes clear now that she was given a moment to really look at him, no hat or goggles, no hasty embrace. Neither of them looked away. A calloused hand softly pulled her head so that his nose was buried in her hair.

"You smell divine," His voice was low as he breathed in deeply. And then, cheek pressed to his chest, she realized that he too smelled wonderful: worn leather, Mojave dust, and lye soap. Her palms pressed against his abdomen, feeling the little valleys between muscles and occasional irregularity of scars.

"How old are you, Vulpes?"

He pulled away to look down at her, searching her face.

"I'm not certain. My parents were killed and I assimilated into the Legion as a child, and even afterwards, time has no meaning to a Recruit."

"Do you remember them, your parents?"

"They were tribals; unworthy of remembrance."

"Is that really how you feel, or what Caesar wants you to feel?"

Vulpes's brow crinkled at her words, "What Caesar wants me to feel is how I feel. Otherwise I would be a poor frumentarius."

"Come on. Our thoughts are our own, Caesar knows this, and you know this. For him to expect otherwise is delusional."

"Yes, however, the mind is such a fascinating thing. If thoughts are repeated, or stimuli consistent, they begin to take the place of other memories or feelings. After all, 'It's the repetition of affirmations that leads to belief'."

"You don't want to remember them, then." Crestfallen, she looked down at her feet. He was silent for a long moment, until,

"Or perhaps I am trying very hard not to."

When realization dawned on her, Leta looked up, empathy melting the frown on her lips. So this was what Legion life was, begin forced to forget where you came from, who you were before them, who loved you. Anger burned in her chest.

Vulpes was laughing. Not a chuckle, but a sound that rolled from his chest and shook his shoulders, filing the room. It was so foreign and unexpected that Leta glowered at him.

"The look on your face was something akin to a puppy attempting ferocity." As his laughter died down, she grinned playfully,

"You think I'm all bark, huh?"

His eyes darkened and through his smirk she saw his tongue rest against a pointed canine,

"I know so." His words were almost a growl. He lifted her up then, and began assaulting her nipples with his mouth.

The sudden change of pace threw her off, and halfheartedly she fought back until his ministrations really did have her jerking in pleasure. He walked them to the bed and without breaking their embrace pressed himself over her, pinning her down to the mattress with his mouth and weight. One hand pinned her collarbone down while the other made its way down her torso and began exploring her clitoris. She bucked her hips up against him and he clicked his tongue,

"Patientia sit virtus." The hand that rested on her collarbone pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck for him. The imprint of his teeth from earlier was red and swollen. A sneer curled his lips before he parted them to run the tip of his tongue over the wound. He trailed up to her ear and bit her earlobe as well, but with considerable less force this time. The hand between her legs smacked her thigh hard and one finger entered her. Her breath caught in her throat as he flitted his finger inside her. He turned her face to his. Her eyes opened slowly and met with his smirk. His hands relaxed,

"Turn over," His voice was raw but that same silky timbre. She complied readily, rolling quickly onto her chest. He entered her then, with enough force that she tensed up in recoil. A low groan escaped his lips. After only a moment of pause he rocked his hips into her and began a relentless pace. One hand held her hip and pulled her up into him, controlling her movement against him. With his bare chest against her back and the weight of him pressing her into the bed she hummed in pleasure. His hot breath tickled her ear,

"Tell me what you want, Courier," His words were harsh and breathless.

"You," Her words were barely audible between gasps.

"Louder."

"You, Vulpes!"

And he began to grind against her, faster and harder than before. Her whole body ached with the jarring but sang with pleasure and that familiar tension began to build. She made little sounds of pleasure that rose with her anticipation until finally he drove into her and sent her tumbling over the edge of her orgasm. She screamed his name and with her sounds and tensing of her muscles, he too came undone. For a brief moment his world stopped and there was only searing satisfaction and the woman beneath him.

When he came back to reality she was still trembling in the aftermath of her orgasm and this time she lay quiet, no wave of forgotten memories rushing back to her. The only sound in the room was their breathing, and he lifted himself up to hover over her. She rolled over to see him with half-lidded eyes. There was a rosy glow spread over her chest and cheeks, and her lips were a bright shade of red. He grinned and placed his lips against hers, biting her lower lip. He pulled away and stood, retreating to the cabinet across the room for a purified water. As she watched him walk, she couldn't help but smile at his back. His gait still echoed power and control, but there was just a hint of a swagger that comes only with a certain sense of satisfaction. He returned and handed her the bottle as well. She tilted it back and welcomed the cool mouthful. A trickle escaped her mouth and ran down her neck. His finger met it and wiped it away.

"Don't be so careless again."

She swallowed and scowled, "I don't need scolded like some child."

"Then do not behave like one."

"I don't."

He chuckled, "Perhaps not within the immediate past, but getting drunk alone because something is irritating you is childish and dangerous."

She promptly stuck her tongue out.

"You only prove my point."

"Careless and stupid? Yes, I'll give you that. But I wouldn't call myself childish, even if I'm being honest with myself."

He just sat in silence, watching her justify her behavior more to herself than him. She was unique. And he decided that perhaps it would be interesting to set up regular intervals to explore her, in more ways than one.

**Author's Note: **_You have my sincerest apologies for the long interval between updates! I know how frustrating it is, and feel bad doing that to my readers. Thanks for sticking with me despite it! As always, feedback is welcome. _


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